


intermezzo

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson and his Huge Crush on Daisy, Daisy And Her Huge Crush On Coulson, F/M, Fluff, Skoulson nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9674327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: A Skoulson picnic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Don't even ask ;)  
> I spent a Sunday home alone.

She can‘t even remember the last time they had an actual day off. When Coulson knocks on her bunk door with a picnic basket, she laughs, and he joins her, because this is not something they normally do, and definitely not something Daisy would have thought of doing.

It’s not that warm yet, so Coulson brings a warm blanket for them to sit on next to the river. The sun has already been shining onto this side of the river bank for a few hours, so the grass isn’t wet anymore, and everything’s lit a nice yellow. Coulson’s brought a bunch of really wonderful things to eat, Daisy doesn’t think she’s ever had this many kinds of antipasti at once, and there’s musk melon with prosciutto, there are small pastries and mozzarella salad and she sort of can’t get over the fact that he prepared all this just to maybe have brunch by the river with her, at the risk of her saying no to the picnic. 

When they’re done, they both lie back on the blanket next to each other, shielding their eyes from the sun with sunglasses and forearms. They are silent for a while, sunbathing, until Coulson makes a joke about how Mace stormed into his bunk recently, telling him about how a journalist flirted with him and how he wasn’t sure how to react and Daisy can’t stop laughing because sometimes Mace doesn’t have a clue when it comes to romance.

"What would you have told him?," he asks, curious.  
"I don’t know," she grins. "I’m not an expert in flirting."  
"You’re not?," Coulson asks, and it’s more of a joke than a flirty comment, but he realizes how suggestive it might have sounded as soon as he’s said it. She smirks, though, so it can’t have been that bad.  
"Only when it comes to _certain people_ ," Daisy replies, and then she turns her head to look at him, and their faces are a little too close for Coulson not to be saying anything, but all he can think of to say is "okay", and he decides to stay silent. He manages to smile a little, but Daisy must have realized how he swallowed before that.

"You’re not half bad at it yourself," she says, and he can’t tell if it’s sarcasm because he couldn’t come up with a reply, or an unusual compliment on his flirting skills she might have witnessed some time in the past. He hopes it’s the latter (even though that makes him more nervous).  
"I’m, uh, a little out of practice," he says, because that covers both possibilities. She’s looking up again, so he dares to turn his head sideways to look at her.  
"You could always practice," she says, and again, he can’t tell if she’s being serious, because her eyes are closed under her sunglasses. She sounds a little amused, but that might not mean anything.

She’s gracious, though, and changes the topic after a moment. His cooking skills come up, and they talk about what Daisy used to eat when she was still living in the van, restaurants Coulson used to visit when he was younger, his mom’s favourite dishes. Coulson visibly relaxes, and it’s only a tiny flinch when Daisy turns around onto her side and her hand brushes his chest. Movies are next, because Coulson used to take his mother to the cinema whenever he could afford to with his college job, and Daisy is really enjoying this conversation because Coulson likes all the good movies, all the noir ones and all the Italian classics, all the Truffaut and, obviously, the original Star Wars.

They are far too immersed in their discussion of favourite movies to realize that it’s gotten a little cloudy, and by the time Daisy points out that the sky is a little grey, it’s far too late to make it under a roof or something. It just starts pouring, and Daisy grabs the blanket and Coulson catches the basket before it falls to the side, and they run. The riverside café is closed, though, so the only thing possibly offering shelter is a battered-up phone cell, which they steer for after exchanging a glance. As soon as they reach it and squeeze into it with the blanket and basket, they burst out laughing, because everything is wet and there’s no room and there’s not a soul to be seen, because apparently, everyone else fled in time, and it’s just such an absurd situation. 

For a while, they just wait and cast problematic glances at the sky, but it keeps pouring all the same. Coulson looks at her for a moment, then produces a bottle of white wine from the basket, raises it questioningly. She nods, pleased with the idea, and he opens it with a pocket corkscrew. It seems pointless to dig out glasses, so they share the bottle. Daisy tells him about a time she ran away from the orphanage and spent a day at the beach with her girlfriend, getting drunk on a bottle of wine stolen from the kitchen, and Coulson laughs in all the right spots. It’s probably also because she’s been drinking a little too quickly, but it makes Daisy feel all warm and tingly inside. 

It’s still pouring mercilessly when they’ve finished the bottle, and Daisy feels a little light-headed, but there’s no room to sit down or anything else. She looks at Coulson and catches him looking at her like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, getting stuck in a phone cell with Daisy, all messy hair and wet clothes, drinking a fine Italian wine straight from the bottle while discussing movies. It’s all she needs to see, really, and suddenly leans towards him across the unwieldy basket between them. When her faces is almost touching his and he can already taste the wine on her lips, she suddenly asks, "Can I do a movie thing?," and he manages to nod just in time before she starts making out with him very passionately, Coulson feeling very overwhelmed by the intensity of it. 

She’s so beautiful and he can’t believe she’s kissing him, kissing him _like that_ , and after a while, it seems that everything keeps escalating until they have kicked the basket aside and Daisy is pushing him against the phone very rhythmically. It’s not the best sex either of them has ever had, but the most important, and Coulson remembers noticing how amidst all the urgent touches and pulling and pushing, Daisy still seems such a tender lover, like nothing she ever does isn’t deliberate, like she would never underestimate a gesture. 

There’s no room, and they have both kept their clothes on for the most part, so this hasn’t exactly been comfortable, but she comes with such a vehemence that Coulson is instantly sent over the edge. Daisy keeps hugging him, holding on to him, and they are panting in unison. Her face is still buried in his neck when she murmurs, voice muffled by his clothes, "It has stopped raining."  
It makes him laugh more than it probably should, and he carefully pulls her chin to his and kisses her, very carefully. Her smile is something incredible.

They forget the empty bottle, it remains standing on the phone book as they leave, clothes disheveled, holding hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you liked it.


End file.
